Fluke, page 15
“So you could go tomorrow?”
What? “Yeah, I mean, if I’m not coming to work.”
“What about your ex-husband? What’s his name again?”
“Jess.”
“Oh, sexy name.”
I laugh.
“Okay, well, is there any way Jess can take off this week?” She groans. “That’s so inconsiderate of me to ask. Who can take time off work last minute? Who am I kidding?” She sits up. “I guess we try Carrington next weekend.”
I point at her, shaking my finger. “You know what? You’re right. It’s totally inconvenient and asinine to ask someone to take a few days off work midweek—at the last second, no less. But let me just ask Jess. He probably won’t be able to, but you never know.”
Her eyes light up. “That would be amazing. If you could talk to him and let me know what happens. If it’s a no-go, let’s book Carrington. I think our demand for Carrington will be much less based on our demographic, but we have to get some sort of experience with this under our belt.”
“I agree. I’ll ask him and let you know.”
She stands. “If he can go this week, just book the appointment and we’ll consider it a paid vacation.” She heads to the door. “You’ve earned it, Pippa.”
Wow. “Thanks, Bridgit. I truly appreciate it.”
“And I appreciate you.” She bends forward and whispers, “And thanks for not getting me into a lawsuit by knocking out Chuck. For heaven’s sake, he’s a piece of work. We have to find a legal way to get him out of here.”
I smile.
She twists the knob. “Oh, one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I know Jess isn’t your ex-husband.”
My jaw drops to the table. “You do?”
“I knew what you were doing, and I can’t blame you. It’s also none of my business if you’re married or not.”
Oh, fuckety fuck!
“Wow. Bridgit, I’m sorry about all of that.” I frown, my stomach tightening. “That kind of defeats the point of me going on the trip, don’t you think?”
She looks at the flowers and laughs. “Absolutely not. This man sent you flowers. You look like you’ve had a very refreshing weekend.” She winks. “I’m curious to see what happens. If this concept of yours can work on people not in a relationship, that makes me even more confident that it can work on people already committed. And, think about it—new marketing angle. Not only is this for couples in trouble, but also people considering a relationship. It’s smart.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Exhaling the stress I’ve carried on my shoulders for the past two weeks feels like a million bucks.
“Let me know about this week.” She smiles and leaves, closing the door behind her.
It takes me a few minutes to get myself together before I find my cell phone. Jess picks up in three rings.
“Hey,” he says. “How’s my girl?”
“She’s looking at a vase full of gorgeous pink roses, actually.”
“Wow. Someone must not be able to stop thinking about her to send her flowers in the middle of a workday.”
I beam. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
“You are very welcome.”
“I have something to ask you.”
“Sure. What is it?”
A power tool starts in the distance, and I realize I’m bothering him at work. Suddenly, I feel bad.
“We can talk about this later,” I say.
“Or we can talk about it right now.”
“Are you sure?”
“Talk.”
I grin. “This is last minute and really ridiculous to even do—and I am not going to be upset if you say no and laugh in my face because that’s really what I expect. But … to make a long story short, Bridgit has offered to let me take off work this week to go to Silver Springs. I told her I doubt you can go, but I’d ask.”
The line stills.
“Jess, I know you probably can’t, and I probably shouldn’t have asked.”
“Um, yeah, you should’ve. Let me call Moss and my dad real quick. We’re just demoing this week, which the crew can do without me. And I haven’t taken a day off in like … maybe ever.”
I smile. “So … maybe?”
“Maybe. Let me call you back in a few.”
“Awesome. Thanks, Jess.”
“Anything for you. Talk to you in a bit.”
“Bye.”
I end the call and go back to researching potential retreat packages, the staff we’ll need to move to the new department, and the expected budgets for each trip. When the phone buzzes beside me, I realize a solid hour has gone by.
Jess: Sorry for the delay. Dad was in a meeting.
Me: No worries.
Jess: Dad is going to check on the guys this week. I’ll be with you.
I squeal.
Me: Really?
Jess: Really really. But I have to go now to get things in shape to leave. We go tomorrow?
Me: Yes. I’ll make all of the plans now.
Jess: Perfect. I’ll have to work late to get things squared away, but feel free to hang out at my house if you want.
Me:
Jess: But my house is always open to you. I want you to know that.
Me:
Jess: We’ll see.
Me: Okay. Thank you for making this work.
Jess:
Anything for you. He … what do you say to that?
“Let me treat you like you’re mine. Pretend we’re in a real relationship. Give me that. I want a real chance to make you fall for me.”
Damn you, Jess.
Damn you, Jess.
17
JESS
I place a pod in the dishwasher and close it. A few quick presses of buttons and the machine starts whirring.
“Done.” I grab a kitchen towel and dry off my hands. “Kitchen cleaned. Suitcase packed. Trash out to the road for pickup Wednesday morning. And I think that’s it.”
I toss the towel on the counter and start toward the living room. But as I move, I catch a glimpse out the window. Banks is walking down the road toward my house.
“Nope. Not tonight.”
Racing through the sitting area and to the foyer, I snap the locks on the front door. Then, before he can see me, I make sure the door to the garage is locked and the slider in the backyard too.
I wouldn’t put it past him to hop the fence and get in that way. Again.
The knocking begins. “Jess! You home?”
“No, I am not,” I say, grabbing my phone and heading into my office. I open my call log and press the top name.
“Hey,” Pippa says. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Then come over.”
She laughs. “I can’t. I have too much stuff to do.”
I sigh dramatically.
“Stop it. I can’t go away with you for three days if I can’t get my to-do list done.”
“Need help? I’m helpful.”
“If you come over, the only help you’ll be is helping me find what room I like you fucking me in best.”
“That’s necessary information. I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
The sound of her giggle is music to my ears.
I can’t imagine if this life was my life. What would it be like to have access to Pippa all the time? To know, for a fact, that I’m going to see her. To be assured that she’ll call me at some point in the day. To be able to send her flowers or lunch—to know she expects me to be there if she needs me.
There have been points in my life where all of that sounded like the worst thing that could ever happen to me. Most of my life, that’s been the case. The idea that someone thinks they can just call me up and change my plans for the day was annoying. I wanted no part of the pressure of making sure a woman felt special. All those things were more of an irritation than a privilege—until now.
The doorbell rings through the house, and I groan.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“One guess.” I reach over and flip on the surveillance system. It takes it a second to connect. “But I’m pretty sure that you’re so right that it’s not even a guess anymore.”
“What’s Banks doing?”
I rest my elbow on my desk and watch him on the front porch. He’s looking right up into the camera.
“You can’t do this to me, Jess. I know you’re in there,” he says, pointing at the video recorder.
“Oh, Banksy—I can and I am.”
“What does he want?” Pippa asks.
“On the surface, he wants to come in. Down deep, he wants to worm his way onto my couch, distract me, and take up all my time tonight. I just don’t have the time or energy to screw with him.”
He gets closer to the camera. “How do I know you haven’t fallen and hit your head, huh? What if you were shaving and you sliced the vein in your throat? I’m out here worrying about you. Just let me know you’re okay, man.”
Pippa laughs. “Oh, my gosh. He’s dramatic.”
“This is only the tip of the iceberg.”
“Fine. I hope you’re not bleeding out in there,” Banks shouts, so close to the device that all I can really see are the blurred insides of his nostrils. “Just remember, I was the one concerned. I was the brother who tried to check on you, but you locked your doors.”
“He really has boundary issues, doesn’t he?”
I tilt my head. “Can you call them boundary issues if he doesn’t acknowledge the boundary to begin with?”
“Good question. I don’t know.”
“Me either.”
He turns his back to the camera, pulls out his phone, presses it to his ear, and marches toward Mom’s.
I sigh. “It’s like he holds me captive in my own house.”
“You love him, and you know it.”
“Meh.”
I peek through the blinds until he disappears into our parents’ house.
Does he need a hobby? Therapy? A puppy?
That’s it. That’s the problem.
He is the puppy.
“Banks is like having a puppy, and it’s still potty training. It’s so much work and inconvenient. But you look at their little face, and you just hope it’s worth it.”
Pippa cackles. “That’s not nice.”
“No, but it’s true.” I stand and stretch my free arm over my head. “What time do you want me to pick you up in the morning?”
“I don’t know. It’ll take us two or two and a half hours, I think. Check-in is at four. So we could leave at two and be fine.”
“Cool. I’ll be there at eight.”
“Jess!” she says, laughing.
“What? My internal clock goes off at six. I’m used to sleeping with you now, so I’ll probably be up all night anyway.”
“I slept with you one night.”
I shrug. “So? You’re addictive.”
“You’re full of shit.”
“I’d rather you be full of me.”
I can hear her smile. It’s enough to draw the corners of my lips to the ceiling.
She must turn on the sink because water running fills the background. Dishes clatter, a drawer rolls, and silverware being dropped into a dishwasher basket rings through the line.
“I saw Chuck at work today,” she says. “He was very non-Chuck-like. Nodded my way and kept on going.”
“Good.”
“Oh, also, I booked us a few things to do because I have to for work—that’s the point of it to begin with. But I left a lot of downtime for us to do what we want.”
“Is that an innuendo?” I ask, peering out the blinds again. Banks leaves Mom’s house with a box.
“Maybe.”
“Don’t forget to pack Vibe Jess.”
She laughs.
“I mean it,” I say, grinning. “I want to see what Vibe Jess can do.”
“He’s already in my bag.”
My eyes go wide as I nod appreciatively. Nice.
I start to nail down a time to pick her up when a car pulls in front of my house. Banks walks up to the side of it and chats with whoever is driving. The camera angle is too low to get a good view of what the car looks like but the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“I’ll call you back later, Pip.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I …” I pause as the door opens and feet hit the asphalt. And then the man and Banks make their way toward my walkway. “Someone is here with Banks.”
“He’s back?”
I roll my eyes. “He’s never really gone.”
The men get closer until, finally, I make out who it is with Banks. Skylar Schultz.
What the fuck? “I gotta go. I’ll call you right back.”
“Jess—”
I end the call, grimacing that I accidentally hung up on her but figuring I’ll make it up to her tomorrow in oral favors.
They ring the doorbell before I can reach the door. I tug it open to see Banks and his box standing beside Officer Schultz.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Banks gestures toward me. “Ah, man. He’s fine.”
“What the fuck is going on, Sparkles?”
“Can you not call me that in front of people?”
I glare at him and then look at the cop. “What are you doing here?”
Skylar Schultz went to high school with Maddox. I don’t really know him, just know of him. And I know that he can be a prick when he wants to be.
As we all can.
“I’m just here doing a well check,” Skylar says. “We got a call that you weren’t responding and someone needed to make sure you were okay.”
My face falls. I whip my gaze to my brother.
Banks holds a finger in the air and takes a step back. “Don’t assume it was me.”
“Of course, it was you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Banks.” I hold out my hands in frustration. “What in the ever-loving fuck are you thinking? You’re wasting the police’s time because I didn’t answer the door?”
He frowns. “So you were ignoring me?”
I jam my finger at him. If a cop weren’t standing ten feet away from me, I’d probably knock Banks out. “You crossed a line tonight.”
Skylar grips the cords on his chest and rocks back on his heels, watching the show.
“Me?” Banks asks incredulously. “If you were in there dead, you’d be changing your tune.”
“I’m not dead. I’m alive. I’m fine. I’m ready to kick your fucking ass.” I turn to Skylar. “I’m really sorry. My brother is a fool.”
“A fool?” Banks gasps. “You do realize that no one else in this family cared about you tonight, right? Where’s Moss? Where’s Mad—off with his little wife?” He rolls his eyes. “Where’s Foxx? They. Aren’t. Here. But I am.”
I don’t know what it is about Banks, but somehow, someway—even during his shenanigans—it’s hard to be mad at him. Sometimes.
“Again, Skylar, I’m sorry about this. I don’t know what else to say.”
Skylar’s face is blank.
Shit.
“What were you doing in there that was so important that you couldn’t answer the door?” Banks asks.
“That’s none of your damn business.”
“Pippa isn’t here. So what? I just get written off now? I’m a nobody?”
I sigh. “Banks, I have to get packed. I can’t do this with you and that—this—is why I didn’t answer the door.”
He lifts a brow. “Packing? For what?”
“Pip and I are going out of town in the morning.”
“On a work day?”
“What are you, my father?”
Skylar tries not to smile.
Banks blows out a breath angrily. “So that’s it, then. You’re going to leave me too.”
“I don’t …” I shake my head. “This doesn’t even make any sense.”
He adjusts the box in his hands.
“What’s in that?” I ask.
He peers inside the container. “My high school wrestling trophies from my bedroom at Mom’s.”
Huh? “And why do you have them in a box?”
“Because she told me this morning that I can’t have the Amazon password. So I called to get it from Paige, and she said Mom said I can’t have it, and Paige can’t help me jailbreak it.” He looks at Skylar and sucks in a breath. “Is that disrespectful to call it jailbreaking in front of you?”
Skylar smirks. “It’s fine. Keep going. This is entertaining as hell.”
Banks turns back to me. “So if Mom doesn’t want to act like a mom and share her passwords, then she doesn’t get to keep my trophies.”
What? I run a hand down my face. What is happening here?
Just a few minutes ago, I was relaxed and ready to go to Silver Springs with Pippa in the morning. And now I’m on the front porch, with Banks and a cop, listening to Banks complain about Mom’s Amazon password.
What is this life?
“I can’t. I’m done,” I say shaking my head. “Skylar, again, I apologize. But at this point, if you want to arrest me, go ahead because at least I won’t have to be with Banks in the back of your car.”
Skylar turns his head to Banks. Banks slyly looks at Skylar. And together, they laugh.
I recoil, not sure I understand what’s going on.
Why are they laughing?
Are they laughing at me?
“What’s going on?” I ask, my teeth grinding together.
“Jess, I’m sorry,” Skylar says, still laughing. “I told Banks I’d come by tonight and pick up the keys to my wife’s car. He did me a favor this week and took a look at it. They couldn’t figure it out at Mike’s Mechanic in town, so Banks said he’d give it a look.”
